The Defeat
by Lily Nova
Summary: "Well, well, well, if it isn't the hero, America, come to laugh at your enemy's defeat?" America gave a small smile as he cautiously wiped the snow from Russia's body, "Something like that?" The fall of the Soviet Union. RusxAme One shot! RxR


**Just a short story on Hetalia, my first. It's a RussiaxAmerica one. The fall of the Soviet Union. Hope you enjoy :3**

**I own nothing but the voices in my head 3**

He was tired; weary, struggling and cold, the tall man coughed heavily as if choking on the air he breathed. Traces of blood on his sleeve caused a hushed laugh to spill from his lips. Mind reeling he fell onto the soft, wet snow. Laughter continued to bubble from his chest. His purple eyes darkened as he scanned the bleary sky.

_I wonder how a country dies? _Russia thought curiously. His laughter ceased, replaced by a harsher, suffocating cough. The tundra of snow around him did nothing to help, the trees barely hanging on to life, bare limbs breaking in the strong blizzard.

_Everything here is disgusting._ Ivan cringed at this fact, _disgusting and dead…_

A sudden noise roused him from his thoughts.

The other walked forward, closer to the fallen nations. He seemed to have come out from nowhere yet Russia knew he had been watching. Watching from a distance but now he was beside him, pale blue eyes filled with pain, not triumph as he bent closer, his warmth causing the other to become anxious.

"Well, well, well," A cold smile spread across the tired man's face, "If it isn't the hero. America, come to laugh at your enemy's defeat?"

America gave a small smile as he cautiously wiped the snow from Russia's body, "Something like that?"

Neither spoke for a while, snow continued to falling and the freezing wind did not let up, persistently blowing across the trees, stirring up the drops of snow. The blonde bit his lip worriedly, assessing the sick man's wounds. His clothes torn from hard, long fights and blood soaked his body.

_The burden of his nation…_ America almost couldn't bear to look at him_, it's too much…_

Russia, breath heavy with exhaustion, looked at the white empty landscape with disapproval. He turned to the other superpower with an almost apologetic smile, "This place… It's not always like this, you know?"

Another, hollow, pain- filled cough escaped from his mouth as he continues, "If you… If you come at the right time," Slowly he grabbed America's sleeve, "At the right time, it's beautiful. Full of sunflowers..."

Alfred was speechless at this; he looked at the dead wasteland that was Russia's home. He always had hope for this pathetic place. Always…

"Yea? Well, I guess I have to come at the right time then."

Violet eyes watched him as he spoke, warmth and sadness clearly written in them. And so suddenly the warmth was replaced. Russia had put on his mask; no more expression could be seen besides a cold, dark smile.

"There won't be a next time," Blood began to trickle down the corner of his mouth as he spoke, "This is the end, America kun…"

America opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, words lost in the calculative gaze of the former superpower. The wind continued to stir and he could feel his face freezing up in the biting cold.

Yet he still continued to sit by his fallen enemy, for some strange reason not even he could fathom. Russia, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, frowned in irritation.

"America kun, can you just let me die in peace? Frankly, your presence is simply making it worse." He coughed again, sucking in air like a dying fish.

The American swallowed heavily, hands itching to get up and leave the pathetic country to die in the snow. _That's how it's supposed to end,_ Alfred frowned, _you're supposed to die alone, like the disgusting mad man you are…_

His legs failed to budge from its spot next to the Russian and he realized his had grabbed on the wheezing man's shoulder. He didn't understand this feeling. This strange inexplicable feeling towards the man he was supposed to hate. Was it pity? Was it righteousness? Was it all part of being the hero?

Even he could not answer that. Ivan contemplated the confused blonde apathetically, shaking rigorously from the pain and the cold.

"What, you're not leaving? How irritating…"

Alfred brought the shivering country closer, "Yup, I'm going to stay here, just to bug you."

"You really are a troublesome pig."

Although harsh words came from his mouth, America could see that the eyes staring at him showed no sign of resent or hatred. His lips held a ghost smile as he reached out with his big gloved had to stroke the other's golden locks. The depressing, darkening sky did not dim his spirits. Russia was happy, happier than he had ever been._ You're the first person. The first to actually stay… I'm… not alone anymore, right?_ He wanted to say but he kept it to himself. Instead, he spoke dreamily,

"Your hair really reminds me of sunflowers. What a nice color~"

Suddenly America couldn't help himself. Tear droplets began to spill from his grief stricken orbs and slowly began to fall onto the smiling face.

"Did we really, "He almost couldn't speak, voice emotional and quiet, "Did we really have to fight?" Alfred whispered, pulling Ivan even closer to his body, feeling the others cold shoulders relax with the warmth that he gave him.

"Who knows?" Russia chocked, barely audible, "but somehow, I'm glad we did…"

Silently Russia gently wiped the flowing teas from the crying nation's face, feeling a calming wave of content come over himself.

"What a cute expression~" He giggled lightly.

"You…" America sniffed loudly, "I'll never understand you…"

This caused the dying man to laugh even more, wheezing and gagging, his head cradled in the arms of the crying man he had thought he hated as the storm blew over them, sending more snow to rain on the embracing countries.

He shouldn't be feeling this pain, this self-loathing, this anger, yet it was there, beating in his chest, raging in his blood. _Why? All this mourning for an enemy, I'm supposed to hate you._

Yet he could only sit there and cry as Russia closed his eyes, his chest ceasing to fall, his cheeks paler than ever. America could do nothing but sit there and cry, and cry, and cry…


End file.
